


You Might Wanna Love Me Too

by magicathstewart (avidfangirllife)



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Goner, M/M, Pining, florist baz, tattoo artist penelope, tattoo artist simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:16:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidfangirllife/pseuds/magicathstewart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz works at a flower shop.<br/>Simon and Penelope are tattoo artists.</p><p>Baz is a complete goner for Simon the first time he sees the boy. (It's actually kind of sad.)</p><p>I'm bad at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [creativitea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativitea/gifts).



> Hi there! So aceteatic on tumblr asked for this au almost a month ago, and rather than continuing to put off posting it, I reached a point where I'm comfortable posting what I have so far.  
> I probably won't get back to this until after Christmas season, but I will come back to it!
> 
> The title is part of a quote from Little Manhattan because that's one of my favorite movies of all time and it felt appropriate!

Baz looks up at the sign above his mother’s flower shop - Natasha’s Bouquets - before unlocking the door and opening for the day. She’s been gone for three years now and he still calls it her shop. As long as her name is up there, it will be hers.

 

Truthfully, being a florist isn’t his life’s passion, but being in the shop is the closest he can get to being with his mother. He feels her in here; her name on the front sign, the red paint splatter on the floor from when he was ten and dropped a paint can, the bouquets that come out just right, their names on the doorjamb in the back room.

 

He hears the bell above the front door ring.

 

“Can I help you?” he asks, looking up from the bouquet he is currently finishing.

 

The boy who walks in is slightly shorter than Baz, wearing a black baseball cap turned around backwards, a tight black t-shirt, and denim skinny jeans. Baz takes in the boy’s blue eyes and the splatter of moles on the boy’s right cheek and neck. He tries not to stare, but it’s hard. The boy’s lips start moving, but Baz doesn’t hear anything right away. He blinks hard, hoping to regain control of his hearing.

 

“-friend’s birthday. Her favorite color is purple if that helps,” the boy finishes.

 

 _Friend?_ Friend as in normal friend? Or girlfriend? Or boyfriend? People don’t buy flowers for regular friends, do they? Baz should know this. He’s the one that owns a flower shop.

 

Baz gathers himself and responds, “Any detail helps. I’ll see what I can put together. When do you need it by?” _Who is this friend? Why do I care? I don’t even know your name._

 

The boy’s face scrunches up and Baz tries - and fails - to not find it adorable.

 

“That’s the thing,” the boy says. “Her birthday is today, so I was hoping to get it by the end of the day.”

 

Normally Baz would be annoyed that a customer needed an order on such short notice. He likes to take time with his work. Make sure each bouquet is perfect - something his mother would be proud of. But, he finds himself having a hard time being angry at the boy in front of him. Baz has a weakness for attractive boys. And this one, well, Baz is concerned at how smitten he is with this boy considering they only met a minute ago and he still doesn’t know the boy’s name.

 

“I’ll see what I can do. Come back at closing and I’ll have it ready for you,” Baz says. He considers asking what exactly the boy is looking for. He doesn’t know how much information was given during the time he went temporarily deaf and doesn’t want to embarrass himself, but he also does need to know what he’s going to spend the rest of his day putting together. “What exactly am I making for you…” Baz says, leaving room at the end of the statement for the other boy to finish, hopefully with a name.

 

“Something I can use as a centerpiece on a table,” the boy says with a shy smile.

 

“And what name should I put on the order?” Baz asks. He feels ridiculous still not knowing the boy’s name.

 

“Snow.”

 

“I’m Baz,” he replies before the boy thanks him and leaves.

 

Later, when Snow comes to pick up the centerpiece Baz spent most of his day making look perfect, they exchange a quick greeting, Baz passess off the finished product, Snow pays, and with a quick thank you is out the door.

 

He’ll probably never see the boy again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Simon has worked as an artist at Bunce Tattoos for the past two years, during which time he still hasn’t managed to get his back piece finished. Luckily, today is a slow day, so his best friend Penelope is currently working on it.

 

Just as Penny is finishing up some of the shading on his left shoulder, he hears the door open and Martin calls his name from the front, telling him his consult is here. Penelope’s dad, Martin, owns the tattoo parlor. He and Penelope have always dreamed of working here together, and one day owning it themselves.

 

Simon grabs his shirt and walks to the front of the shop. Standing at the counter is the florist he met three days ago. Baz. He remembers the boy’s name because it is different. Also because the boy is cute. Simon tends to remember the names of people he finds attractive.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When the man standing at the counter of the tattoo shop calls for Simon, the last person Baz expects to walk to the front is the boy he made a bouquet for three days earlier. And yet, there Snow is - _shirtless_.

 

Baz gapes, taking in the constellation of moles that trail down the boy’s chest. He would have been satisfied only knowing of the ones that exist on Snow’s face and neck, never knowing there exists a galaxy under the boy’s shirt. Now that he knows they’re there, he won’t be happy until he’s kissed every single one of them.

 

Baz manages to close his jaw, but not before Snow sees and shoots him a smile. He feels the blush creep up his neck into his cheeks as he allows himself to smirk back.

 

“So, you’re my consult,” Snow says, smile extending. When Baz nods, words failing him, the boy continues, “Follow me to the back so we can talk design.”

 

As Snow turns around, Baz sees why the boy didn’t put a shirt on. There’s a dragon spread over the top half of Snow’s back, one wing over each shoulder, tail dipping down towards the boy’s waistline. The piece is mostly a grey-scale, but there also seem to be some red accents - or maybe that’s just because some of it is new. Baz’s hand itches to reach out and touch the dragon, graze his fingers over its wings and down the tail. He shoves his hands in his pockets, not trusting himself to resist the temptation.

 

There are two chairs at the sketching table, so Baz takes a seat in the one Snow leaves unoccupied. Snow still hasn’t put a shirt on, so as the boy is taking out supplies, Baz can see every muscle moving under skin. It takes all his self control to keep his jaw shut as he watches Snow set up.

 

“Okay,” Snow says and Baz’s eyes jump up to the boy’s face, which, in all honesty, isn’t great for his self control either. Without the baseball cap, Baz can see Snow’s array of bronze curls. Sitting on the boy’s right side, he also has a clear view of the moles that he still wants to kiss. “What are you thinking?”

 

For a moment, Baz forgets that the boy is referring to the tattoo design he is here to discuss, and nearly responds, _that I’d really love to kiss you_. Which is probably extremely creepy considering they don’t even know each other.

 

Instead, he explains the tattoo he has been planning since his mother passed. As he talks about yellow-eyed grass and irises, Snow sketches a rough outline. Baz should be looking at the sketch, but he can’t pull his eyes from Snow’s face. The boy’s face is pinched in concentration. Baz wants to smoothe out the small wrinkle on Snow’s forehead, place his hand over the boy’s own, and kiss him on top of the drawing table. He’s too far gone already. He shouldn’t be here. He should stand up, walk out the door, and find another tattoo artist. He can’t move, though. He’s in a trance watching Snow work, fixated on the boy’s every movement.

 

“I can’t wait to get started,” Snow says, breaking through Baz’s daze. “Come back in two days and I should have something drawn up for you.”

 

“Yeah. Okay. Two days. Perfect,” Baz responds, words tumbling out of his mouth as he stands to leave.

 

As Baz makes his way back to the front of the shop, there is a girl sitting on the front counter with blue hair, purple glasses, and a lolly in her mouth. Baz wonders if this is the girl he made the bouquet for. Mostly he wonders if Snow is dating the girl.

 

The girl pulls the lolly out of her mouth and twirls it between her fingers. “Simon!” she calls, leaning her head back, “You hungry? I want lunch.”

 

“I’m always hungry,” Snow replies, walking into the front of the shop. The boy throws his arm over the girl’s shoulder as she hops off the counter. “Place on the corner?”

 

Baz turns around quickly, heart dropping into his stomach at the clear sign of affection between the two.  That settles it.  He really needs to get out of here.

 

“Do you want to come?” Snow asks, but Baz doesn’t realize the question is directed at him until the boy says, “Baz?”

 

Baz turns back to face the couple, trying to think of the most polite way to decline the invitation. Sure, he’d love to get lunch with Snow. But he’s definitely not going to be able to sit through lunch with Snow _and_ Snow’s girlfriend.

 

“I should get back to my shop. I have a few orders to finish up” he manages before stumbling out the front door.

  
Back at the flower shop, Baz drowns himself in bouquets, trying put out the constellation of moles scattered across his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz's life isn't nearly as sad as he originally thought!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took forever, but it's finally here!!!! If you actually read this, I'd love to hear from you. Enjoy! xoxo

“So, that consult you had earlier was pretty cute,” Penelope says, reaching across the table to steal a chip off Simon’s plate. He tries to smack her hand away, but she pops it into her mouth with a grin of victory. “Not my type, but definitely yours.”

Simon glares at her. (Not because of her statement. She’s right - Baz is cute and totally his type. He glares because she stole a chip.)

“I’m well aware of that, Penny. He’s the one that made your birthday-flower-centerpiece-thing Aggie made me go get for you. Don’t even think about it,” he says, smacking her hand away as Penelope tries, unsubtly, to steal another chip from him. “You could just order your own.”

“My way is more fun,” she chirps with another wide smile before continuing, “So that was the cute florist?”

“Yep,” Simon says with a pop before stuffing four chips into his mouth at once.

Penelope rolls her eyes at him. “And?”

“And what?”

“ _And_ what are you going to do about it?” Penelope asks, exasperated.

“Am I supposed to do something about it? I mean, I did ask him to come to lunch with us. And I also still have to see him again for another consult and probably two sessions for the tattoo. Three if I really wanna drag it out.”

“Seriously, I’m so glad I am in a solid relationship because you boys are getting more and more ridiculous.”

“Penny, he might not even be into guys.”

“He slipped in a puddle of his own drool on the way out of the shop. I think you’re set.”

“Still.”

“Shut up and eat your stupid chips so we can get back to the shop and finish your back piece.”

Penelope manages to steal three more chips from his plate while they finish up their lunch and when they head back to the shop, Simon pulls his shirt back over his head and settles in at her station. She manages to finish all the grayscale shading as Simon dozes on the table - the buzz and sting of the needle a relaxing comfort for him - dreaming of sharp grey eyes swimming in a sea of flowers.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Baz tries to convince himself that he can make it another 24 hours without returning to the tattoo parlor. It’s an hour before his usual closing time when the voices in his head finally win out.

_You'll just be checking if he's even started the sketch yet. It's your first tattoo, so you can blame the nerves. That's it. He’ll just think you're nervous. There's no way he's going to know you want to bend him over the drawing table, rip off his shirt, and cover every freckle and mole with your lips and tongue._

And then at the slight tightening in his jeans, _Aleister Crowley, Baz, get your shit together_.

He closes a half hour early and heads over to Bunce Tattoos.

When he walks in the front door, his jaw nearly hits the floor as he takes in the blonde with her back to him standing between the legs of the girl with blue hair - who is once again sitting on the counter with a lolly in her hand. _Snow's girlfriend_. Or maybe, _not Snow's girlfriend_ considering her lips are firmly attached to this blonde girl and her legs are wrapped tightly around the girls waist. It's all a lot to take in, especially considering the bell over the front door had alerted them to his arrival. The girls break apart and look at him at the same time. Baz scrambles to work a smile on his face, but he's pretty sure it looks like he wants to throw up which is exactly what he wants to do.

“Oh, hey! I remember you. You're not supposed to come back until tomorrow I thought?” The girl with the blue hair smirks at him like she knows something he doesn't. Which she most likely does. She clearly knows a lot of things he doesn't. Like everything that is happening currently in front of his face.

“Yeah,” Baz says, surprised at how normal his voice sounds and the lack of vomit spewing from his mouth. “I had a slow day at the shop, figured I'd come see if there was anything for me to look at. It's fine if there's not. I was passing by anyway.”

The blonde speaks up then, “Shop?” The question is directed at him, but before he even has time to answer, she turns to the blue haired girl, “Oh, Penny! Is this the cute florist who made your birthday bouquet?”

The blue haired girl - Penny - smiles and nods. Baz swallows hard and forces his expression to remain steady.

The blonde turns back to him with the same knowing smirk Penny was wearing only a minute before. “Those flowers were so lovely. Thank you so much. They were absolutely perfect,” she says to him with a smile.

“I'm glad you liked them.”

“I'm Agatha, by the way. This is Penelope.” Agatha juts her thumb back at Penny - Penelope - who in turn wraps her arms over Agatha's shoulder and pulls her in close to rest her chin on the girl's shoulder. Agatha pulls the lolly out of Penelope's hand and puts it in her mouth.

Baz smiles softly at them. He's feeling a lot better about coming until Penelope calls to the back room for Snow and his heart trips over a beat.

Snow comes from the back room, face instantly brightening into a full grin as he takes in Baz standing by the front door. Baz can feel the blush creep up his neck and over his cheeks as his face involuntarily breaks out into a matching smile.

“Hey,” Snow says, only a foot away now. “I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow.” He's still smiling, so Baz knows not to feel bad about it.

“Sorry,” he says even though he knows he doesn't have to. “I just thought I'd stop by and see if you had started sketching it. Closed early today anyway.”

“Come to the back,” Snow replies, reaching a hand out towards Baz. Baz freezes, but Simon nods in encouragement, so he takes it in his own. “I'll show you what I have so far.”

Penelope's voice breaks through the haze that has settled around Baz's awareness. “Si, can you close up tonight? I wanted to take Aggie out for dinner.” She asks it like she already knows the answer.

He can hear her shifting off the counter before Snow even responds, “‘Course. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks babe!” The voice is Agatha’s this time and is immediately followed by the girls laughter and the bell above the front door.

The sudden silence hits Baz’s nervous system. He's _alone._ He's _alone with Snow_. He's not sure how strong his self control is, but he's certainly about to find out. Baz takes a deep breath in and forces it out between almost closed lips.

They get to the table, but instead of pulling up chairs, Snow pushes Baz to stand directly in front of the sketches. Baz is grateful for a moment because he has a better view of them this way - there are a few different options for him scattered across the wood, and some others peeking out from under the edges of the paper - until he feels Snow settle in behind him, crowding him up against the table. Snow's arms are settled down on either side of him.

He's _screwed_.

Snow starts talking about each of the sketches, pulling them in closer as he explains them, pointing and gesturing to sections as he talks, but Baz doesn't hear any of it. Instead he feels a shock every time Snow's arm brushes his, his skin tingles where Snow's breath warms through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, his ears ring as Snow's voice fills his head but his brain is too preoccupied to decipher individual words.

“...ultimately it's up to you,” are the first words he understands and the last words from Snow's mouth.

Baz can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He swallows hard and nods, unable to form any actual words to say. _This is ridiculous, Baz. Speak. Just say something. Anything._

Snow speaks again before he can make his lips move. “Are you okay?”

Baz nods again, slow, biding his time. “Yeah, I’m good,” he chokes out.

“You sure?” he turns Baz around to look at him, no doubt reading Baz's every thought on his face.

Baz looks directly into Snow's blue eyes, holding them on his own, but then his gaze flickers down to the boy's mouth, then over to the moles, then back up to the eyes. Snow licks his lips and the next thing Baz knows, they're on his.

Kissing Snow is an explosion. A long groan comes from deep in his throat, all of the longing disappearing, replaced with relief and heat. He sees stars across the back of his eyelids that match the constellations of moles and freckles he knows are still hiding under Snow’s shirt. He moves his hands down to grip the bottom of the boy’s shirt and tease his fingers under the edge of it, waiting for Snow to encourage him further. Both of Snow’s hands are gripped tight around the back of his head, but Baz can feel his nod of approval as Snow’s tongue darts through his lips.

He tugs at the bottom of the shirt and breaks their lips apart long enough to pull it over his head. Free of his shirt, Snow leans back in, chasing Baz’s lips but Baz is distracted by the universe he just uncovered. He turns them around and lays Snow back on top of the sketch table, tracing his fingers along the exposed chest, then leaning down and grazing his lips softly over each cluster.

Simon shivers under him and Baz pulls back, startled. “Is this okay?” he whispers. His voice sounds too loud in the empty shop.

“Mhmm,” Snow replies, pulling Baz’s face back to his. “‘S perfect,” he mumbles against Baz’s lips.

Eventually the table becomes too uncomfortable to keep laying on top of, so the boys break apart. Baz sheepishly admits he needs Snow to explain each of the sketches to him again, which Snow agrees to without making him feel embarrassed.

“So,” Snow says as he walks Baz to the door, “If I tried asking you to go to lunch again, do you think you’d say yes?”

“Why don’t you ask me tomorrow after my appointment and find out.”

“I think I might,” Snow says before kissing his cheek and locking the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, Baz is working in Natasha’s Nursery, finishing up a bouquet of apology flowers someone called in that morning. He’s careful with his right arm, the tattooed area on his right side still a bit sore to the touch. Snow had finished the outline the day after they kissed on top of the sketching table, but he’s still deciding if he wants greyscale or color shading.

The bell above the front door rings, alerting him to a customer in the shop, but when he sees Snow appear from around the corner, his face lights up.

“Can I help you?” he asks, completely professional. Or, as _completely professional_ as he can manage with Snow looking at him like _that_.

“Yes, I was hoping to get a small arrangement of flowers for my boyfriend. You see, we’ve only been dating for about a week and I just wanted to get a little something to let him know I was thinking about him.”

“Is that so?”

“It is!” SImon says, leaning over the counter to press a quick kiss against Baz’s lips.

Baz laughs and replies, “When would you like these by?”

“That depends. What time are you picking me up for dinner tonight?”

“7:30.”

“You can drop them off at the tattoo parlor on your lunch break.”

Baz rolls his eyes, but pulls Snow back in for another, slightly longer kiss, breaking apart long enough to say, “Sounds perfect.”

“Mmm,” Snow mumbles against Baz’s lips. “Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it (so far)!!! Let me know what you think here or come talk to me on [tumblr](http://magicathstewart.tumblr.com) ❤


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